The Shadows by the Truck
The dog didn’t run toward the street. It didn’t head toward the open fields beyond the fence. Instead, it stopped abruptly near the far corner of the lot where an old delivery truck sat half-hidden in the dark.
The dog dropped the wallet with a wet slap, then turned toward the truck, barking louder than ever, its body rigid, fur bristling, eyes locked on the shadowed interior.
Mark and Daniel slowed, confused. Then they heard it too — the faint creak of metal, the shuffle of feet.
“Someone’s in there,” Mark whispered.
A second later, a figure shifted inside the truck. For an instant, a flash of light glinted off something metallic in his hand.
The dog barked furiously, lunging toward the truck, as if daring the hidden figure to step out.
